"Yeah?"
"Yeah. You'll see. I'm going to have a Roxy contract in no time flat." She looks to me with a smile.
The first waves crashes into the beach.
The next rolls toward us.
"Go." I push her board in the right direction.
She paddles. Catches the waves. Pops up with one messy step. She rides the wave for a second and a half, then she falls/jumps into the water.
It's a smooth fall. Like she's been surfing for years.
She pushes the board back to me.
And she wraps her arms around me and she kisses me like she needs everything I have to give.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Iris
"Mmmm." I fall onto the bench seat as I take a long sip of my sugary cold brew. Sweet, sweet caffeine. "Thank you, surf gods."
"You're welcome." Walker slides onto the bench next to me. He taps the outside of my knee with the outside of his.
We're both in shorts and t-shirts. We both towel changed at the beach. After about a gallon of water, I'm finally hydrated enough to caffeinate properly.
"Don't you want to eat?" He arches a brow as he takes a long sip of his black cold brew.
"Eventually. This first." I lean back in my seat. Sip. Sigh with pleasure.
He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me onto his lap. "You make me so fucking jealous, Iris."
"Yeah?" I lean back so my neck brushes against his cheek. It feels warm. It feels better than it has any right to.
"You don't fool me, sweetness. You do it on purpose." He places his palm on my quad and rubs my inner thigh with his thumb. "You sure you're good to do dinner at seven tonight?"
I nod.
"Fuck, we're jumping into relationship fast."
I laugh. "True."
"Too much?"
"No." Not even a little too much.
He brushes my hair behind my ear. "Tell me the truth."
I thought you'd ask. There's no way you're okay with the past being the past. I really, really want to believe that, but I can't. "Yeah?"
"You love surfing."
Oh. "I do." It makes me feel alive and vibrant. A natural high. It makes sense now, why so many former addicts drive motorcycles or jump out of planes. The rush is everything. "Walker, I—"
"Don't tell me you're already backing out."
"No. Of course not. This is, um, part of being a girlfriend. Or whatever we're calling this."
"I like girlfriend."
"Yeah?"
He nods. "I've never been a boyfriend before."
"You're a virgin?"
He nods.
"Not even once in high school?"
"Not even once."
"Wow. I'm not sure I've ever popped a cherry before." I turn so I can look into his eyes. They're dark and beautiful and filled with trust.
Is it really okay keeping this secret?
Is he really okay with the past being the past?
We spend the afternoon jumping from coffee shop to lunch to coffee shop. We swing by his place to pick up clothes, then we go to mine. We fuck, shower, change.
I spend forever fixing my hair and makeup. It needs to be perfect. So his parents don't see the cracks in my story. So his sister believes I'm honest. So I see Iris the future psychologist and not Iris the fuck-up when I look in the mirror.
He slides his arms around my waist. Brushes his lips against my neck. He's in jeans and a button-up shirt. It suits him more than it should.
It's unfair how good he looks in everything.
"You ready to go?" He slides his hand over my hip.
"Not if you keep doing that."
He chuckles as he steps backward. "I can't help it. You're too fucking tempting."
My cheeks flush. I smooth my dress. Sway my hips as I spin on my heels to face him. "I'm wearing a thong."
"You're evil."
"I learned from the best."
My confidence plummets as I step onto the hardwood floor. This place is even more beautiful with the sunset flowing through the sheer curtains. It reeks of money, taste, class.
Walker pulls me a little closer. His fingers tense. Then his arms. His shoulders. His jaw.
It's subtle. Almost imperceptible—he keeps a perfect poker face—but it's there. I'm getting good at reading him. At seeing past the carefree smile.
A woman in her fifties in a black shift dress, a royal blue cardigan, and expensive all-business heels crosses the foyer. She's taller than I am, with dark eyes and highlighted dark hair.
Her red lips—a subtle, work appropriate red—press into a smile. "Walker, sweetie. It's been too long." She turns to me. "You must be Walker's girlfriend."
"Iris," he says.
"Jen." His mom places her hand over her heart. "You can call me Mom, though I'm sure that's a bit premature."
I look into Walker's eyes for some sign on how I should react. Is she really suggesting we're going to get married? I guess it isn't unusual for the mom of a twenty-something guy who's never had a girlfriend before. But still…
"It's nice to meet you." I offer a hand.
She takes mine with both of hers. Shakes. "You too." She releases me then turns to Walker. "I miss you so much, baby." She wraps her arms around him. "I know you have issues with your sister—"
"Let's wait until we sit down," he says.
Her lips curl into a frown as she pulls away. "We worry about her too." She motions after me then turns and leads us through the main room and the sparkling, stainless steel kitchen, past the sliding door that leads out to the backyard.
The pool glows against the darkening sky.
It's inviting.
"Iris." Walker takes my hand. Motions to the dining room through the open doorway.
Oh. I'm staring at the pool. Stalling, maybe. What can I really say to his sister? To his parents? Trust me, I know how hard this is for your daughter. Why? Uh, I just do. No reason. It's not like I'm a recovering addict. You really think I'd keep that from your son? Of course not. I'm not a liar.
Ahem.
I'm not here to angst about my baggage.
I'm here to support him. To help him confront his parents.
I'm focusing on that.
I follow him into the dining room, to the massive oak table.
He pulls out my seat for me, a perfect gentleman.
I take it, cross my legs, smooth my skirt, hang my jacket off the back.
Walker takes a seat next to me. He nods to his mom. Then to his dad, sitting next to her. "Dad, this is Iris."
His dad nods. "Robert. It's lovely to meet you. I'd offer you a drink, but we're keeping the house dry."
The frown falls off Walker's face. It's news. Good news.
"Oh, that's fine. I don't drink." I press my lips into a smile. "It smells wonderful." Like lemon and cardamom. Which is weird, given the spotless kitchen.
"I wish I could take credit." Walker's mom presses her lips into a smile. "But it's takeout."